How the West was Avenged
by visceralfringe
Summary: ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. When Laura Barton is kidnapped and the Barton farm goes up in flames, Sheriff Rogers assembles a posse of unlikely heroes to hunt down the gang responsible and avenge the Barton property.
1. Prologue

**A Frontier Tale**

—in which Tony Stark is a traveling salesman and inventor extraordinaire looking to put down roots, Natasha Romanoff is a barmaid when she's not dressing like a man and taking odd jobs, Phil Coulson is the world's best barkeep, Nick Fury and his gunslinger Maria Hill are outlaws of legendary proportions, Clint and Laura Barton own and operate the largest farm in the county, Thor is a Norwegian immigrant with cattle to butcher, Bruce Banner is the town's only doctor despite his own unsettling duality, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff are traveling gypsies, Deputy Wilson likes bird watching a little too much, Loki is the most notorious, cunning, and trigger happy thief on this side of the Rockies, Sheriff Steven Rogers is in love with desperado bronco buster, James Barnes...

and no one has any superpowers.

Welcome to Swan Song, Wyoming, ninety miles from the Colorado Border... and a stone's throw away from Cheyenne territory. Between the geysers, tumultuous rivers, vast stretches of mountainous forests and bone dry dust, the folks of Swan Song have no shortage of challenges. But the place is studded with pockets of peace and serenity as well—green glens and getaways.

Out East, President Lincoln is trying to mitigate conflict as civil unrest boils over slavery while the railroad quickly combs the frontier. Young ranch hands are chomping at the bit to fight if war breaks out. But Sheriff Rogers already has enough on his plate.

Women and horses are disappearing left and right in the surrounding counties. It's only a matter of time before trouble finds Swan Song too.

When Laura Barton is kidnapped and the Barton farm goes up in flames, Sheriff Rogers assembles a posse of unlikely heroes to hunt down the gang responsible and avenge the Barton property. But what he finds is far worse than he fears. And trying to catch Loki is like trying to catch the wind.


	2. Chapter 1

It had rained in torrents last night. Tomorrow was church. Dina had been out at the breaking paddock all day. And the Rogers were out of soap.

In a nutshell, that was the reason Steve had saddled up Amadeus and trotted into the town proper on a warm Saturday afternoon.

"Wait here, Mad," he muttered, patting his dusty neck. "Won't be long." He dismounted, tied the spirited palomino to the hitching post to drink, and trotted up the stoop into Mr. Masters' General Store.

The soap bars, and other toiletries, stood shelved between two large cases near the back. The store had grown since the town's founding. Ted Masters had torn the south wall right down and extended the building another forty feet just to house all the supplies coming in. It just so happened that this little cranny was the only place in the store one couldn't readily be seen. He noticed Lou Anne Bishop stooped over the fabric table as he breezed by. She had seemed so absorbed on the difference between eggshell and ivory that he didn't want to disturb her with a hello just yet.

Torn between a bar scented with rose and another with lavender, he weighed the hefty options in his palms. Which one would his honeybee like better?

"Ruth!" he heard Lou Anne exclaim. "You're back! How was the trip?"

Rogers knew the Dickensons had traveled to Laramie to see their son—a lawyer, and a damn good one—back in autumn. Spring hung half over already. But that was the way of things in Montana. The weather kept the hardiest rider grounded for months at a time, let alone a loaded mule cart.

"Oh, gracious. It was eventful, Lou Anne. That is the best word I can use to describe it. _Eventful._ You won't believe what I heard over in Laramie!"

"Tell me everything."

"Well. Apparently, there's some crook named Loki goin' round, snatchin' up women. Thieving horses. Shooting folks. Making the biggest ruckus over in Colorado. It's got every lawkeeper south of the border up in arms. And get this. He's a prince from Europe. With a crown and everything."

Rogers frowned, listening more intently.

"You're pulling my leg, Ruth Marie Dickenson. And here I thought you had some real news. Shame on you for spinning such lies."

"I swear on my grandma's best cookpot, God rest her soul. And they say he's heading up north."

"Here? Well, I sure wouldn't mind being snatched up by a prince."

"See, that's what I first thought too. But apparently, he's meaner than a grizzly and craftier than a coon."

"Does the sheriff know?"

"Not sure. I aim to visit him down at the jail this evening—tell him everything I know. Maybe take him some pie too. Speaking of Sheriff Rogers… How is he since I been gone?"

Steve stiffened.

"Can't rightly say. I see him at the chapel every Sunday morning. Eight sharp. But he mostly keeps to himself. Single as the last Jack in the bag. Poor, lonely thing."

"Still confounds me that his wife up and took off like she did. Left their darlin' little girl Dina just like that."

"And you can already tell it'll do her no good. Not such a darling anymore."

"How do you mean?"

"She prances around in pants. Might as well be a little boy. No one to take after but her daddy. Unless someone sets her straight, she'll never see her wedding day."

Suddenly, Steve didn't care if the soap smelled like sheep dung. He gritted his teeth tightly, accidentally cracking the rose bar. Seemed like the choice had been taken from him. They meant well. He knew that. But hearing them talk about his honeybee that way made his blood boil.

"I'd volunteer. I tell you, Ruth, it makes no sense. I may be a grandmother, but I know what a good looking man Steven is."

"I said it before, and I'll say it again. Bridgette O'Malley is a nut."

"You don't think he was… beating on her do you?"

"Bite your tongue, Lou Anne! That man is sweet as sugar and gentle as a spring shower. Gave her everything he could. I'd marry him in a heartbeat."

"I think you're a mite old for him, Ruth."

"Right. But apparently, he's into that."

Steve's cheeks lit up, but the blush went beyond bashful, right into a pit of pain and shame. There had been extenuating circumstances behind his relations with Bridgette O'Malley that he hadn't shared with anyone. Like her refusal to let him participate in the leveling exams without taking her out on early evening strolls. Or graduate at all unless he stuck his hand up her skirt, among other things. He had to marry her after that. It was the descent thing to do. He couldn't hate her for any of it. Without her, he wouldn't have had his most precious treasure.

"You are so bad! What about the barmaid down at Coulson's?"

"Natalie? She's a firecracker, that one. Sheriff could probably soften her up."

"Well, we gotta pair him off with someone soon, or you know that Wanda might swoop in."

"She gives me the willies."

"You're not the only one. I say she's a witch. Came out West to hide from the Hunt. She'll cast some spell on him. Maybe the whole town. Take all our young men for herself, she will. You mark my words."

Wanda—or Ms. Maximoff, as Rogers stubbornly referred to her—was a gypsy peddling fortunes and charms. Every day, dusk to dawn, she and her brother Pietro would push their rickety wooden chart clamoring with handmade charms and bobbles up and down the main road.

"We'll fix him up with someone. What about that good woman on the Barton property? Ms. Laura. Lost her husband to the fever last winter, didn't she?"

"Shoot. He ain't dead yet, Ruth. Just laid up with a bum leg."

"Aw, but she's real pretty. Hard workin'. Respectable too. I think it's a fine match."

"While we're on the subject of fine matches. Did you see that bear of a man who took the old Wilson property?"

"I did. He's a foreigner, right?"

"So I hear. Norwegian. But if I didn't know better, I'd say he came straight from heaven. See him over at the livery sometimes. Tall as a church steeple."

"His looks aren't what worry me. Maybe I'm the only one who feels this way, but I don't like all these foreigners coming around with their strange ways of speaking and false gods."

"I couldn't agree more with you about that. But what can two lil' old ladies like us do about it? How's that leg of yours?"

"Oh, it's alright. Stiff in the morning, 'til I get to walking around."

"You seen Doc Banner about it?"

"I did. He gave me some ointment from back East. Strangest stuff. Smells like juniper and gets warm right out of the bottle. But it's helping, so I can't complain."

"The Doc's a bachelor too, ain't he? Golly. I just noticed how many eligible men we've got here in Swan Song."

"If only we were school girls again." They giggled as they left the store.

Steve eased out from the privacy of his hideaway and tried to keep his eyes beneath the brim of his hat while he paid Ted for the soap, plum tuckered out by the emotional onslaught he had just endured.

Mercifully, Ted pretended not to have heard anything and flashed Steve a blithe grin as the register sang the praises of his coin. "G'day, Sheriff."

"Mr. Masters."


End file.
